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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25694245">college and caffeine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thompsborn/pseuds/thompsborn'>thompsborn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>parkner week 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>College AU, M/M, Parkner Week 2020, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Professor Tony, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, all of my parkner week fills so far have been harley’s pov, but its not an actual character w a name just a mention, i mentioned a third sibling just bc i wanted to, morgan and peter are siblings, no powers au, subtle flirting through coffee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:33:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,542</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25694245</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thompsborn/pseuds/thompsborn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Harley tunes into the lecture then, but in the back of his mind, he can’t stop picturing those brown curls and golden eyes, and one thing is already pretty clear.</p><p>He is totally and absolutely smitten.</p><p>-</p><p>parkner week 2020, day three: college au, no powers au</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harley Keener &amp; Tony Stark, Harley Keener/Peter Parker, Peter Parker &amp; Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>parkner week 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859782</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>296</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>college and caffeine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i finished writing this on my lunch break at work and am posting it from my phone lol but!! it think its cute and miraculously its not beint posted late so :D that’s a win in my book!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>day three—college au/no powers au</p><p> </p><p>“Go to college,” Harley mocks under his breath, clutching onto his pen on the wrong side of a little too tight. “It’ll be <em>fun, </em>you can get a good job, have a stable income—<em>what’s the harm?”</em> He scoffs to himself, glances over at his notes from his morning class that—unsurprisingly, and for what is now the third day in a row—his lab partner did not show up to. Which would be fine, except they then texted Harley, as if they’re friends or something, asking for a copy of the notes, and Harley is a southern raised boy who tends to do what he’s asked when it comes to helping someone else, so he sent back a confirmation and is now getting as much of the notes copied as he possibly can before his afternoon lecture starts.</p><p>It helps, really, that his professor seems to be busy with a conversation that a few of his other students dragged him into—though, dragged into it or not, he looks intrigued by whatever the topic is, fully invested in each and every word that’s said, appears to only be interjecting when he feels it’s appropriate. There are plenty of reasons that Professor Stark is Harley’s favorite at ESU, and his genuine interest in what his student’s have to say and his willingness to hold conversations about topics that most other professors would likely not speak up about is definitely one of those reasons. Most days, Harley actually gets antsy waiting for his Prof to get through these conversations to get to the actual class, but it’s a blessing in disguise today, because Harley has a little over half of the notes already copied down by the time that Tony claps his hands together to gain everyone’s attention, calling out, “Alright, alright! I know we’re starting a little late, but let’s quiet down and get this show on the road, huh?”</p><p>Almost instantly, any and all chatter filling the room goes quiet, everyone’s attention zeroing in on Tony with rapt interest and respect—except for Harley, who is shuffling his papers together to put them away as neatly and quietly as possible, his gaze cast down to focus on getting the task done. He vaguely hears as Tony launches into the lesson for the day, doesn’t really process the words quite yet as he tucks the papers into his folder and then leans down to put it in his bag, sits back up again and looks forward just in time to watch the door to the lecture hall push open and—</p><p>Literally the most attractive boy that Harley has ever seen in his entire life steps into the room.</p><p>Tony’s talking cuts off as the boy offers a sheepish grin, makes his way forward on light feet and pointedly does not look at the large crowd of students that are all looking at him curiously. “Sorry,” he says to Tony, rounds the desk at the front of the room and plucks a phone off the surface, holds it up in the air and wiggles it as if to make it clear what he’s talking about when he adds, “I forgot my phone in here and I’m about to head out with Ned to go visit May, so I kinda—need it, y’know?”</p><p>Harley’s pretty sure his jaw is on the floor as he watches the way the boy’s feature brighten into a sort of amused grin as Tony rolls his eyes affectionately. “Wouldn’t be a problem if you just remembered to charge your phone at night like the rest of us do, kiddo.”</p><p>Shrugging, the boy replies, “Gives me an excuse to hang out in your office, doesn’t it?”</p><p>“Don’t act like you aren’t just using your own father as a safe haven to plug your phone in at school, gremlin child,” Tony retorts, laughing lightly as he crosses his arms over his chest.</p><p>“Hey,” the boy deflects, though he’s kind of giggling, which is—just—fucking <em>adorable. </em>“Morgan’s the gremlin child. I’m an angel.”</p><p>Tony waggles a finger in the air and points out, “She’s your sister. You’re <em>both</em> gremlin children. So is your brother.”</p><p>“And all three of us are <em>your</em> kids,” the boy says matter of factly. “What does that say about you, Dad?”</p><p>Tony squints his eyes and purses his lips in a clear effort to hide the way he was about to grin, then shakes his head and says, “Whatever, Gremlin. Say hi to your aunt for me, okay? And invite her to dinner this weekend. Rhodey says he misses having a sane person in the house with him.”</p><p>The boy snorts. “That doesn’t help your case, Professor Deflection. Your own husband doesn’t even consider you sane and you apparently have three gremlin children.”</p><p>“Why is he just my husband and not your father when it comes to roasting me? I don’t even—whatever. Nevermind, just—<em>go,”</em>Tony insists, waving his hand towards the door. The boy rolls his eyes and shoulders his backpack, tucking his phone into his pocket before crossing the room to leave. Tony stops him halfway, though, grabs him by the wrist and tugs him into what can only be described as a fatherly embrace. Harley kind of expects the boy to crinkle his nose and pull away in embarrassment, like a lot of people do when receiving parental affection in public eye, but all he does is sort of snuggle into his dad’s chest with a content little sigh, grin even brighter when Tony pulls away and ruffles his hair, telling him, “Alright, <em>now</em> you can go, but make sure you’re home in time for dinner. Rhodey’s making pasta.”</p><p>“I’m going to see May,” the boy laughs. “I won’t be eating anything there, so trust me, I’m not gonna be late for Pop’s cooking. I’ll probably be early so that I can get an extra plate.”</p><p>Tony rolls his eyes and smiles. “Of course you are. Now, seriously, Peter—get going. Don’t leave May waiting for you to show up. Lord knows she’s missed you since the school year started and you stopped going over every couple days, and I don’t wanna be on the receiving end of her Mama Bear wrath.”</p><p>The boy—Peter, Harley thinks, mouths the name like some kind of romcom lovestruck idiot, though he thinks that, with a boy this cute, he deserves to be the protagonist for a minute—just snorts a bit and nods, spins around to walk out the door and calls a chirpy little, “Love you!” over his shoulder.</p><p>In his absence, Tony chuckles under his breath, looking beyond fond as he turns his attention back to his class. “Sorry about that, guys,” his tells them all, features still all soft around the edges. “My son’s a little shit that likes to distract me from my work at any chance he can get, but I raised him, so I suppose that’s my fault. Now, where were we?”</p><p>Harley tunes into the lecture then, but in the back of his mind, he can’t stop picturing those brown curls and golden eyes, and one thing is already pretty clear.</p><p>He is totally and absolutely smitten.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The next week, Peter walks into Tony’s class again, except it’s ten minutes before class is actually meant to start and Tony is nowhere to be seen.</p><p>Oh, and Harley is basically passed out in the front row, too tired to go back to the fifth row, where he usually sits in this class, because he’s fucking <em>exhausted</em> from a study session with Betty last night that somehow lasted until past three in the morning, and his morning class started at six thirty, so he got barely any sleep—isn’t sure he really got any at all, because it just feels like he rolled over and closed his eyes and then his alarm was going off. He barely survived the morning class,  and the coffee with three extra espresso shots that he got from the coffee shop on campus isn’t doing anything to help, though he still clutches it in his hands as he presses his cheek to the rough material of his backpack, which is resting on top of his desk, and lets his eyes flutter shut.</p><p>He doesn’t hear when Peter comes in—or, rather, he hears the door open, but his classmates have been steadily trickling in for the past five minutes, so he thinks nothing of it. He doesn’t see as Peter looks around the room with a frown, likely trying to see where his father is, only to startle a bit when he sees the practically sleeping twenty year old that looks a light breeze from falling out of his seat. Harley is completely unaware of the way Peter’s features scrunch up in thought, the debate that glimmers in his eyes as he looks away, looks back at Harley, and then seems to set his jaw in decision.</p><p>Harley remains absolutely blissfully ignorant as the cute boy that had him sitting with a dropped jaw approaches him carefully, hesitates before settling into the desk beside him and carefully reaches over to shake his shoulder, pitches his voice to be gentle and kind of quiet as he says, “Hey. <em>Hey, </em>wake up.”</p><p>It doesn’t process that he doesn’t recognize the voice, or that he’s literally hunched over his own backpack and practically snoring in a lecture hall—all he knows is that someone is trying to wake him up and that really is not what he wants right now. So, he lets out a grunt, burrows his head into his backpack and hugs it closer to him, like he can somehow just disappear into it and get some rest.</p><p>It makes Peter chuckle, kind of light and amused. He shakes Harley’s shoulder again, still light but not as light as before, raises his voice just slightly and tries again. “You’re in class, man. You gotta get up.”</p><p>“No,” Harley murmurs—still, again, not really processing much of anything other than the fact that’s he’s bone tired and doesn’t want to move. “’M stayin’ here. Go away.”</p><p>The chuckle is more of a full on laugh now. “That was—dude, I don’t know you, but that was <em>adorable.”</em></p><p>Harley crinkles his nose, finally starts to wonder who’s talking to him, but it doesn’t take priority quite yet. Again, just tucks his nose under his backpack strap and curls his arms into his chest, coffee sitting forgotten on his desk, and lets out a long, slow sort of breath. “Stayin’ ‘ere,” he says again, softer, barely even a mumble.</p><p>“Alright,” Peter says, now a normal talking volume since the room has enough other students in it that are chattering that there’s no real need to whisper. “You can stay here, you just gotta—wake up, alright?”</p><p>
  <em>“No—”</em>
</p><p>If Harley was, like, functional or awake or—whatever—he would be very much embarrassed by the fact that his voice comes out like a fucking <em>whine, </em>but, as it is, he really doesn’t care what he sounds like, or how dumb he probably looks. He just hasn’t gotten a proper night’s sleep in weeks and that study session was, apparently, the last straw, because he can’t even imagine trying to suck it up and make it through his class. It’s like his brain has melted from exhaustion and is dripping out of his ears like sludge.</p><p>He snuffles, feels his brows furrow. “Tired.”</p><p>There’s a long pause, and Harley is just about to really, properly doze off, when he feels the hand that’s still on his shoulder sort of tighten a bit, and then that voice is asking, “Do you live on campus?”</p><p>Harley doesn’t understand why the question matters, but he manages to nod his head, just slightly.</p><p>“Okay. Okay, uh—hold on.”</p><p>And Harley continues to remain completely and blissfully unaware as Peter helps him out of the classroom and back to his dorm to get some proper rest, looking endearingly exasperated by this sleepy stranger the entire time.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Three days later, Peter barges into the room in the middle of class again. He’s got sunglasses perched on the tip of his nose and hands Tony a coffee with a wide sort of grin, doesn’t seem to have any reason to stay any longer after that and spins on his heels, freezes, momentarily, when he meets eyes with Harley, who is definitely staring at him in some kind of awe. Peter’s grin turns sort of boyish and lopsided.</p><p>He waves, just slightly, before he leaves.</p><p>The coffee ends up not being for Tony. Harley doesn’t find this out until a few minutes later, when the class have been instructed to discuss something among themselves, and then, suddenly, Tony is stepping over and setting the coffee cup on Harley’s desk.</p><p>“Uh—”</p><p>Tony either doesn’t notice Harley’s spluttering, or he chooses to ignore it. Either way, he simply crosses his arms over his chest and says, “Peter wanted me to give this to you. And—”</p><p>A sticky note, which Tony sticks to Harley’s desk before walking away without another word. Harley stares at the two items with wide eyes, feeling completely flabbergasted by—whatever the hell is happening. He doesn’t focus even the slightest bit as Tony gets everyone’s attention again, just keeps staring until, eventually, he manages to reach forward and pluck the sticky note off of his desk, turns it around to read—</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Maybe this will help you stay awake better than that other coffee did.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Text me?</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>And, underneath that, a phone number.</p><p>Harley finds his eyes stuck on those numbers for way too long, feeling like, somehow, this must be a mistake. But it’s right there, and he feels his fingers twitch, just slightly, and then, without letting himself second guess it, he pulls out his phone and enters the number. Takes a moment, considers, and then just sends a simple, <em>thanks for the coffee.</em></p><p>While waiting for a response (and still not tuning in at all to the class, though, unknown to him, Tony keeps glancing at him with a knowing little smile and doesn’t seem all that bothered about his attention being elsewhere), he reaches for the cup, feels the warmth of it soak into his skin as he brings it up to his lips and takes a tentative sip. Whatever it is, it’s sweet, but not overly sweet—a good balance with the bitterness of coffee, something that seems to swirl on his tongue and makes him feel more awake than he has in weeks.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>A few hours later, he gets a text back that says, <em>you’re welcome (: i’m peter btw!!</em></p><p>Harley gnaws on his lower lip, open textbooks splayed out in front of him completely forgotten. Golden eyes flash in his mind, the lopsided smile and the joking tone while bantering with Professor Stark. Smitten with a practical stranger—but here, he has an opening, a chance to maybe make a move.</p><p>It takes a few minutes of typing, deleting, typing again, trying to find the right words. But, eventually, he sends his response.</p><p><em>i’m harley (: </em> <em>can i buy you a coffee to pay you back?</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>my tumblr is spidey-lad!! hmu!! let me know what u think!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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